


dig two graves

by smolstiel



Series: Boyking!Sam Drabbles [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Demon Sam Winchester, Gen, Post-Episode: s02e22 All Hell Breaks Loose, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, sam is a snarky lil shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolstiel/pseuds/smolstiel
Summary: prompt: sam stayed dead after cold oak, becoming the king he was meant to be. trying to defeat him, someone tries to find his grave.Written for the Boyking Sam Discord Server.





	dig two graves

Dean knew exactly where he’d buried his brother, long before the world had descended into madness and flame. Back when he’d waited days, begging demon after demon for a deal. None would even speak to him. No matter how many boxes he buried, no matter how many rituals he did, no matter how many demons he trapped, every single time he was met with silence and frustration. 

Until the day the skies went dark. Until the day the whispers became something like a murmur. Something like an endless voice. The sun never rose on the twilit world. 

Dean’s shoulders ached as he dug deeper and deeper into the unmarked grave. Fitting, he’d thought, for Sam to be nestled in the roots of the biggest tree around. He hadn’t had the heart to burn the body, almost hoping for Sam to return. Now he knew better. 

Dean hit rotten wood, and bit back a scream. 

The coffin had a massive hole clawed in the center of it, streaks of dried blood and the smell of death. He turned away to swallow bile and ash. 

“Hey, gold star for effort,” an impossible voice sounded, above and behind. 

Dean whirled to find Sam smirking at him, his face horribly fresh, as though his brother had never died at all. Yet underneath was something rotten, too soft, spoiled like fruit left too long in the sun. His throat clicked as he stared upward. “Please,” he said in a broken, rattling voice. “Don’t.” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, a single bark of bitter laughter. “It’s way too late for you,” he said, resounding like a gong, and snapped his fingers. 

Dean felt his neck turn too far, heard a sickening crack, and then there was nothing.


End file.
